Casanova
by Belker
Summary: Gibbs is trying to wrap his mind around what happened in the bank. How did it turn out this bad? Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello again, my friends at FF! I offer you a Tony-story (everybody gasps with surprise...) with a slightly different POV. I just love outsiders' POV and my favorite is probably StarvingScriptWriter's story with Gladys. I'm planning a second chapter, but it's not finished yet.  
As always, I hope you enjoy, and for those of you who didn't know it, I don't own any of the NCIS characters._

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* * *

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**Casanova**

Unable to do anything else, I studied his ashen face for a long time. It was taut with pain and glistening with sweat and I was afraid that if I looked away, the next time he would be gone. Dead. Lost to the world.

He trembled in a horrific manner, grinding his teeth against the pain. The brunette by his side looked worried and that scared me even more. She didn't strike me as a person who worried easily. I guess the blood pooling on the floor beside him was reason enough.

He apparently tried to joke with her, talking in a weak voice, but she only stroke his cheek and told him to be quiet or somebody named Gibbs would be angry with him. This gentle display of obvious love had me choking back tears. Then he coughed blood all over her shirt and I cried openly.

I didn't care what happened to me as long as he didn't die. Because that would be all my fault.

* * *

_"Ma'm? Ma'm, you all right?"_

_"Yes, Special Agent, thank you."_

_"You want another blanket?"_

_"No. Thanks, I'm fine."_

_"Would you answer a few questions for me?"_

_"Please. Go ahead."_

_"All right. What were you doing in the bank, ma'm?"_

_"I was just…just going to pick up my new checkbook when it happened."_

* * *

I was standing in line in the bank on my lunch break, thinking how stupid it was of me to be standing in line in the bank on my lunch break. Lunch hour is always the worst. People everywhere. Busy, busy time of day, but oh, so slow lines.  
I was entertaining myself by watching all these people standing in line on their lunch breaks, in the bank, slowly inching forward.

And he caught my eye.

The analogy is corny, I know, but he was like a ray of sunshine among all the dull faces and grey suits and briefcases. He was humming with life; pure joy was beaming from his green eyes, making them look bigger and more innocent than was really suiting him. He was a player, I could tell.

I really couldn't make myself care, however, because when he caught my eye and I somehow didn't find the will to look away, his smile simply eclipsed those eyes. It was blinding and I let myself be dazzled. It was my lunch break after all. I could do what I bloody well pleased on my own time, even if it meant I was being played by a handsome Casanova in the stupid bank.

I felt myself smile back, like a star-struck teenager. It should be impossible, but his grin widened even more and those emerald greens were sparkling. He looked like a boy in a man's body. Mind - immature, body…very mature. Was it getting hotter in here? Suddenly I didn't mind the queue moving so slowly.

Then he cringed - in astonishment or simple pain I couldn't tell, because the petite dark haired woman jabbing him in the ribs looked like she could inflict some serious damage if she wanted to.

Girlfriend, most likely. He immediately gave her his full attention and forgot about me. Oh, well, I had moved somewhat forward in line during my moments of bliss.

I was almost at the counter when they came barging in, voices raised and guns blazing.

* * *

_"What happened then, ma'm? You see their faces?"_

_"No. No, they had ski masks on. Original, huh?"_

_"They usually have. Accents? Tattoos? Anything like that?"_

_"Midwestern. No tattoos, no distinguishing clothes, no limps, no scars, nothing."_

_"You sure?"_

_"Well, I had some time to watch them, didn't I?"_

_"Just doing my job, ma'm."_

_"So was he. My Casanova. Just doing his job."_

* * *

You think you know how you will react in certain situations. How you're going to handle it. At least I did, until I was faced with real, live, gut wrenching terror like this. I always thought I would be cool and stoic and _**not**_ cry and scream and cower like I did. Embarrassing, but I really didn't worry about that right then. Not when they struck out at the security guard, sending him to the floor with a bleeding gash on his temple and not when they fired their guns with ear shattering noise.

There were three of them, complete with masks and bad attitudes. After they had sprayed the place with bullets and hollered at us to be quiet and stay where we were, they locked the doors and one of them - probably the leader - ran to the counter.

The poor woman behind the desk looked very pale and I could see her hands trembling, but she did what she was told and started putting money in a bag. In my haze, I could at least think that they weren't after the big money, just an easy way of getting enough cash to get through the day. Amateurs.

I don't know why, but I found myself looking for my Casanova. I was scanning the room, looking at everybody cowering on the floor. Mostly businessmen from the look of it, an elderly couple and two youngsters. Below one of the windows, I found him. He was crouching in front of his lady friend, trying to keep her behind him. He didn't look terrified like the rest of us and I wondered about that. My own fear melted away a fraction, as I watched him reach back and put a hand on the pretty brunette's arm, scan the room with a calm expression and ease back against the wall, apparently satisfied. With what I had no idea, but the sight calmed me.

Then he caught my eye and winked at me.

* * *

_"He winked! I almost laughed out loud."_

_"I hear he's like that."_

* * *

When the poor desk clerk was finished with putting money in the offered bag, she gave it to the man with trembling hands. He snatched it from her and gave her a backhand that split her lip. I couldn't hear if she whimpered, because everything was drowned out by the gasps and cries from around the room.

"Shut up!" one of the robbers roared. "Shut the fuck up!" The cries soon turned into sobs and he twirled slowly around, as if he was taking us all in for the first time. "Lie down, now! And keep quiet!"

I kept down on the floor, sobbing and trying not to be noticed. Because that is what you keep thinking. _Not me, not me_. _Better somebody else than me._ I guess we all thought it.

Except for him.

* * *

_"Did you know he was a federal agent?"_

_"No, not then. He seemed so…childish, you know? Egocentric. Not like the kind who would risk his life to protect somebody else."_

_"Who was he trying to protect?"_

_"He wasn't just trying! He did."_

_"Who, ma'm?"_

_"Me."_

* * *

We all kept down like they ordered, and hoped they would leave quietly now that they got what they came for. That's when we heard the sirens. I feeling of relief washed over me, but the moment after I didn't think about much else than the gun pressed to my temple. I was terrified and I think I was crying, but I didn't scream.

"Who pressed the fucking alarm, huh?! Who did it?" He was furious. The sounds of car tires screeching on the tarmac outside was unmistakable. The cavalry was here. "I'll put a bullet through her brain!"

I looked with wide eyes at the handsome man standing up in front of me.

"All right, tough guy, just calm down." His voice was smooth and calm with a hint of mockery in it. I hoped Tough Guy didn't pick up on that. "Let her go. Didn't your mom ever tell you not to pick on those smaller than you?"

I could feel the tension in the room. It was vibrating. Everybody holding their breath.

"You're a cop, ain't you?" the Tough Guy hollered. "Ain't you?!"

"Just take it easy, okay?" Casanova said with his hands raised in the unmistakable sign of surrender. "Why don't you pick on me instead?" His voice was quiet and he still looked calm but the smile was gone.

I drew a sharp breath.

When he looked at me, his eyes were dark, and his expression cooler. Harder. I guess I noticed it before, subconsciously. That idiotic grin of his didn't seem to fit him. It was beautiful, but it just didn't fit. The _smile_ was a façade. _This_ look was the one that was etched in his features. This serious look. This grim look.

I would never have guessed.

* * *

_"He drew the attention to himself?"_

_"Yes." _

_"And was shot?"_

_"Yes." _

_"What happened?"_

_"What do you think happened?! The bloody thug pulled the trigger and I think he liked it. Sadistic son of a…"_

_"What happened, ma'm?"_

_"Casanova was trying to…to protect me. Oh God, he was protecting _**me**_."_

* * *

"Why don't you pick on me instead?"

"Because I like girls better. Now sit down!" Tough Guy was getting really angry.

I was looking at my hero now with fear in my heart, shaking my head slowly at him. _Don't, don't..._

"No", he said, "I won't sit down. Not until you leave her alone."

Tough Guy cocked his gun, and I cringed, but he wasn't aiming at me anymore. "Sit. Down. _Now_."

"Let her go."

The silence stretched on. I almost didn't dare breathe. I met formerly sparkling green eyes, now darkened by new emotion. I saw this other side of him and thought that this wouldn't - _couldn't_ - end well.

"I said let her go." Icicles were hanging from those words now.

* * *

_"That's when he got shot?"_

_"No. No, he didn't stand a chance, though. The two other thugs threatened to shoot his girlfriend as well. He lowered his gun then and…he didn't stand a chance. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."_

_

* * *

_

I never got the opportunity to thank him. Never caught his name either.

He'll always be 'Heroic Man-child Casanova' to me.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, here's chapter two. Thanks for the reviews and alerts, you guys!_

**This chapter is from Gibbs' point of view.**

* * *

"_He was protecting me. It was all my fault."_

I didn't want to believe her, but I somehow did.

Knowing that DiNozzo was on his was to the hospital didn't make things better at all. They wouldn't tell me, but I knew from the paramedics' looks that they didn't give him great odds. _Dammit!_

When I looked up at the woman again, I could see she was crying. Not hysterically, but tears came in a steady, calming stream. Releasing pent up emotion, one of my ex-wives explained it to me once.

Hell, I sometimes wish it were allowed.

* * *

And to think the morning started out so quietly. No calls, no dead marines, nothing. Just a whole lot of paperwork and DiNozzo's interpretation of 'paper work'. The paper planes flying through the air were numerous. I was actually allowing myself to think it was a boring day. That's when I jinxed it, I guess.

All I knew was that Tony and Ziva hadn't come back from their lunch break in time. I was more than a little annoyed with them just then, cursing and growling, making McGee hide behind his desk. Sometimes I'm very much reminded that he's still the youngest and greenest on my team.

When I heard the breaking news that a bank was being robbed and there were hostages taken, I just knew they were in trouble. I knew it. I was cursing the whole way down to the garage, my youngest and greenest agent in tow.

I arrived just in time to demand to be in on the bust. In retrospective it might have been better if I just didn't. I will never forget the onslaught of sensations as I came busting through the doors of the bank. Hysterical people screaming and the stench of gunpowder and blood hanging thickly in the air. My marine-self told me to secure the room first - _always secure the premises first _- but it was damned hard when all I wanted to do was make sure my agents were safe.

Concentrate!

I caught sight of them by the windows and it was like the din of voices muted into the background. There was blood; blood everywhere. Tony lying too still and Ziva out of her mind - that's something I will stuff deep down inside me, together with my memories of the reports of Shannon's and Kelly's deaths. I had hoped I never had to bring those images to the surface again, but seeing him like that just made them crawl their way back up into my conscious mind.

_Concentrate!_

I did what a marine would do. I roared a 'clear!' and called in the paramedics.

* * *

"_Special agent Gibbs? Are you all right?"_

"_Tell me what happened."_

"_He…he was just lowering his hands, gun pointing straight at his head, when they dragged his girlfriend by the arm. She...I guess she really is very strong, because she managed to kick one of them to the floor. Tough Guy didn't like that at all. He ordered his other thug to shoot her if she did anything as stupid again and to search her for a gun. I saw Casanova and his girlfriend exchange glances, but I had no idea what they would do…"_

* * *

As I stood there, watching helplessly - hopelessly - my gut was screaming at me to do something. _Do _something_! _But all I could do was watch. Watch as Ziva was shuffled out of the way. Watch as pressure bandages were applied. Watch as they put an oxygen mask over his face, fighting him as he tried to reach for Ziva. Watch as the ambulance screeched off, sirens blaring.

I felt numb. Empty.

I did what a marine would do. I went to interview the witnesses.

"_What did they do?"_

"_It was almost surreal. I can't remember much of how it happened, but as Tough Guy ordered his man to search her for a weapon, she - it's amazing - she managed to somehow elbow him in the face and draw her gun. I've never seen anything like it. She hit her gun in his temple in a matter of moments. Two robbers out."_

"_Game over?"_

"_No. Not in the least."_

* * *

As I crawled down the stairs to autopsy later that night, my mind was reeling. It was testament to my ruffled appearance that Ducky didn't greet me with his usual exuberance.

"Hello, Jethro." His eyes were worried and he immediately withdrew his hands from the body he'd been working on.

"Duck."

"How is young Anthony doing?"

I glared at the body. It could have been Tony. Could still be Tony. "Don't know. Haven't heard from Ziva in a while."

"And may I ask why you aren't at the hospital?"

"No." I knew it sounded juvenile and terrible, but what was the point? If he was going to die, I couldn't do anything about it, could I?

"Jethro…" No one can scold you like Ducky can. And only with a word or two.

"I went to see him, Duck! But he was still in the OR and I couldn't. I just couldn't stay."

He washed his hands calmly and steered me to his chair. Put a glass in my hands and poured me a generous amount of his finest single malt.

"Tell me."

* * *

"_Tell me."_

"_He - Tough Guy, just let out a laugh. And it sounded just crazy. Absolutely crazy. He was breathing very irregularly. He was holding my arm, bruising it I guess, his gun pointing steadily at Casanova's head. 'Let her go', they both said, but he wouldn't, I could tell. 'Drop your guns!' he hollered at them both, 'or I'll shoot!'. The lady did as she was told, and Casanova said 'All right' very casually, gave me a firm look, then slowly reached into his jacket and presented his gun. It was when he bent down to lay it on the floor, that Tough Guy started following _him_ with his barrel in stead. And he got jumped."_

"_Jumped?"_

"_More like tackled by a football pro. That's when the gun went off."_

I did what a marine would do. I thanked her for the information, left my card and stumbled to the car to beat the crap out of what ever came in my way. I shook with anger and fear.

I did what a father would do.

* * *

"I hate that I worry about them like this, Duck."

"Well, Jethro, one can't choose one's parents any more than one chooses one's children."

And of course he was right. Ducky's always right.

"D'nt mean I have to like it."

"Here, I'll drive us to Bethesda."

* * *

_Gibbs may seem a little OOC in this, but I think he's really uncapable of expressing his worry that he's obviously feeling. Just think of SWAK and Chained._

_The only reason I managed to get this story finished is that I have a terrrible bout of the pneumonic pl... no, wait. Just the flu. But still, a little review would probably make me recover sooo much quicker! ;)_

_/Belker_


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